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Shake off all the ashes from the Armageddon factory where they manufacture war as though it all will end today. Take off for the Painted Desert, then spill the ink to spite the feather. I’ll wait for God to send a signal on a rain cloud’s face.

I want the lightning to come strike me through the bones so I can know beyond Enlightenment that God ain’t just a show. I want the thunder to come rolling over me just like a motorcycle parade of His spirit’s energy.

Now I don’t need nothing but a toothpick and a razor shoved down deep inside my boot, (that’s all a man should ever need). Eat locust and honey. Wipe my mouth with unspent money. What’s the use in holding paper if it ain’t real currency?

Give up every memory of detached philosophy because a “truth just true to you” has never set anybody free. Detox every modern drug that found its way into my blood through needles of suspicion and the anti-child belief.

Burn the independence note, ambition’s drive, and the hopeless hope that: “All I need for liberty is inside of me, me, me.” Take a good long look around you Gnostic dogs who think you’ve found a transcendental answer to “corrupt reality.”

Everyone is a circus freak, we do our show to get a treat, but never find fulfillment or that missing piece that’s lost. All the vain excuses for humanity’s abuse of freedom found divine response as he was hammered to the cross.

All presumptuous striving to explain away his dying finds a cloud of witnesses declare that time was ripped in two. And history’s a witness of the sureness of that moment as the critics shut their ears and eyes at the empty tomb.

So walk me through your fire till the poison of my culture comes out dripping from my pours into a puddle at my feet. Meet me on your mountain, and let me dance inside your fountain. I’m not thirsty for no drink that any man could pour for me.